


Poetry and Pain

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Series: In Nauseating Variety: Mustafar [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: Attachment does not equal love in this fic, Canon Divergence - Battle of Mustafar, Chosen One, Deathfic, Gen, Jedi, Jedi Culture Respected, Love, Sith, Sith'ari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:57:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8124418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: The Battle of the Heroes took a different direction.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This may be triggering for those suffering from depression or self-harm.

 

Obi-Wan Kenobi sat slumped against a wall in the facility on Mustafar.

Anakin lay dead, head resting on his former Mentor's lap.

Slowly, slowly life dripped away from Obi-Wan.

He waited for death as he smoothed the hair away from Anakin's forehead.

The boy looked so young. Innocent.

Asleep.

No hint of the atrocities he had committed. Of the darkness he'd intended to inflict on the galaxy.

Obi-Wan's head fell back against the wall, the pain of his wound throbbing.

He'd known he wouldn't survive this fight.

Anakin was too strong, too skilled, had too much raw power in the Force.

He was the Chosen One.

This had never been a question about Obi-Wan's survival.

The only thing that had remained to be seen was whether he could take the newly-made Sith out too.

Obi-Wan hadn't been sure he could. It's why he'd taken the opportunity when it presented itself.

Anakin hadn't left himself open to a strike. His form was perfect.

There was a way to get around that.

Obi-Wan impaled himself on Anakin's blade in order to get close enough to put his own through Anakin's heart.

It worked.

Of course it did. It was an age-old strategy.

It wasn't one Anakin had anticipated.

He stared into his former Master's eyes, his own revealing a stunned disbelief at Obi-Wan's lack of interest in living...

Pain...

Anakin's power-crazed eyes drained from insane gold to his own blue as he collapsed into Obi-Wan's arms. Dead.

The weight had thrown Obi-Wan against the wall and he'd slid down it, leaving a sick red smear behind.

Not that he could see it.

He hadn't moved since.

Why hadn't death claimed him yet?

It hadn't taken Qui-Gon this long to die.

Or was his sense of time distorted? Did the pain make each second seem an eternity?

An alarmed squeal brought Obi-Wan's head back up to find R2. The droid's optical sensor scrutinized the two of them in blatant distress.

_ Padmé. _

There might still be hope.

He couldn't save Anakin.

Maybe he could save Anakin's wife and child.

It's all he could do for his brother now.

“R2, the Senator. Take the Senator to Polis Massa,” Obi-Wan rasped. Oh, it hurt to speak. And it took... so... much... effort... “There isn't much time. She will die without medical assistance.”

R2 whistled his concern for Obi-Wan's own life.

“I'm staying here,” Obi-Wan told him. “It's my choice. I'd rather die here than in some hospital room. Go. Go  _ now. _ ”

R2 moaned, turned, and trundled away.

Obi-Wan hoped the droid would bring Padmé to help in time.

Bail should be there.

If Yoda had survived his battle with Sidious, so would he.

Even if the ancient Jedi hadn't made it, Bail would take care of Padmé.

He was smart. He'd figure something out.

Obi-Wan looked down at the broken body lying atop his legs.

“We'll do everything we can to save her,” he whispered. “Everything we can.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes against the pain.

He didn't feel grief.

No.

He would be joining Anakin momentarily. Their story hadn't ended the way he hoped it would.

But it was vastly better than it could have been.

In another universe, Obi-Wan might have been forced to live.

What a cruel, cruel fate that would have been.

When Death came and placed its cold fingers on Obi-Wan's shoulder, the Jedi turned to it and saw a friend. It held out a hand to him, and Obi-Wan placed his own into it, letting go of life without a struggle.

He found relief.

And then nothing else.

 

* * *

 

Darth Sidious had always known that Obi-Wan Kenobi would be his biggest problem.

As long as Obi-Wan was by his side, Anakin Skywalker would never fall.

That meant Obi-Wan had to  _ go. _

Multiple attempts to kill the pesky Jedi had failed. Spectacularly. Almost as if he'd led a charmed life.

So when it came  _ time _ , Sidious had thrown Grievous to the wolves, and had to hope Obi-Wan would be distracted and away from Coruscant long enough for the plan to work.

It had gone even better than expected.

And there hadn't been a word of complaint from Anakin when Sidious told him that Obi-Wan was an enemy now. And that enemies needed to be  _ destroyed _ .

The boy had looked sick, but anything but defiant.

There was no way Obi-Wan would be able to kill the boy. He loved him too much.

And he could never  _ defeat  _ Anakin. Obi-Wan might be a stellar Jedi, but no Jedi had power like Anakin's.

It had shocked him to sense his new apprentice's danger.

He'd come as quickly as he could.

Searching alone, he found them.

Anakin  _ dead _ .

It meant the boy had overestimated himself. Been cocky. Made mistakes.

_ Failed. _

He hadn't been worthy of Sith apprenticeship after all.

Cradling his body, as if he still loved the boy after everything the traitor had done, Obi-Wan's body lay propped against the wall. Head hanging forward, eyes open. Empty. Glazed. His hand on Anakin's face was slack.

In life, Obi-Wan Kenobi had kept Anakin Skywalker from the Sith's clutches.

The infuriating barve had managed to do the same in death.

Apparently, it was possible to hate a man even more  _ after  _ the man was dead than before.

His comlink signaled. “What is it?” he snarled.

A clone voice warned him about destroyed safety systems, something about damage—

Sidious became aware of the wailing of klaxons and the flaring of warning lights at the same time as the floor tilted and threw him down.

He struggled to reach the door, to find a way out, knowing  _ just  _ what was happening.

The facility had been compromised during the duel. Somebody's lightsaber had destroyed crucial systems.

Probably Anakin's.

That hotheaded fool. He would get so focused on  _ just one thing  _ that everything else had the opportunity to blindside him.

It's how Palpatine had been able to corrupt him.

Death was an enemy that would _not_ take Sidious today. He saw the specter looming near and snarled his defiance. He hated it. He feared it—

He'd almost made it to the door when the facility groaned, shifted again, and Obi-Wan's body crashed into him, throwing him away from his only escape.

As the building hurtled into the lava, Sidious cursed the weak, pathetic Jedi who had somehow managed to kill the Chosen One,  _ and  _ now him, the Sith'ari.

Life wasn't fair. The Force was cruel.

Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn't a creature of prophecy.

He was just some  _ random,  _ pitiful,  _ short _ , scrawny, broken Jedi, with no self-esteem, and far to  _ good  _ to be even remotely tolerable—

Liquid fire drowned out the sound of his curses.

Brief flashes of sight assailed him before it was gone forever.

Anakin and Obi-Wan. Side-by-side. Silently being consumed by the flame.

Together in death as they had been in life.

Quiet.

Far away, where the pain couldn't reach them as their bodies were offered up.

Like some obnoxious Jedi funeral pyre.

Surrounded by light and heat and fierce beauty.

As for Sidious...

His end had none of the poetry, and all of the pain.

And, Force above, he  _ hated  _ Obi-Wan Kenobi.

 

 


End file.
